24 minutes before my normal 3:00 a.m. wide-awake-can’t-go-back-to-sleep time. The microwave door slams shut. Beeps. The door opens and shuts again. Whirs. Beeps. Open…

What in the world is she making? Clatter continues in the kitchen. Reeses barks. The back door opens. Shuts. He’s running around outside barking at whatever it is that called him out there.

I kick the covers off. Why didn’t I turn on the fan last night? Flipping the pillow over to the cool side, I put it on top of my head. Turn to my left side and hug it instead. There goes the microwave again.

Walking to the kitchen, the light is on. There’s a jar of Nutella on the counter. She’s still in her clothes from yesterday. What are you doing?

Stupid question. She’s clearly eating.

“I’m hungry,” she exclaims as she wrestles the plastic seal off a new tub of chocolate ice cream. Her makeup still looks fresh.

You sound like Grandpa warming his coffee when he comes to visit. You will NOT do this again. Be sure to clean up because I don’t want to walk into a messy kitchen when I get up in a few hours.

“I will, I will, I was just a ‘lil hungry,” she reassures me only as teens do.

I go back to bed and summon sleep. Come back, please, I wasn’t done with you yet. Another toss. Slow breathing. No covers except for tucking in my feet.

Bark! Bark-bark!

I must be the only person in the house hearing Reeses asking us to let him in. Waiting doesn’t help. I get up once again. The kitchen is dark. He pads back in but I’m not nice enough to let him upstairs to cuddle with her.

Back to bed. Breathe, breathe, breathe.